Karp High (or A Study In Perseverance)
by Whispers From A Silver Tongue
Summary: As new students join and old ones return, a new year of school at Karp High promises to interesting. From budding relationships and breaking friendships, characters from all fandoms of all kinds join together for a year of plots, counterplots, and subplots that make this a shoo-in for 2015's most complex school AU this side of Ao3.


School had never been in the top ten list of places that Dean Winchester would like to be at seven am on a Monday.

Neither he nor his younger brother Sam had particularly bad marks- however, Dean could never get much above a B in English, and Sam's record high was a C in Science- but neither were considered the 'perfect student'. They had a taste for chaos, and weren't afraid to show it.

Regardless of personal wants or internal lists, here they were, sitting side by side in the dusty back seat of a faded yellow bus at 7:14 am, on September first. It was rather an odd feeling for the boys, due to the fact that neither boys could remember the last time they had been in school for over a month. Rarely was it they took a bus to school, and never, _ever_, had their dad been seen to be sitting on the couch of the ratty motel room they had rented looking at _houses_, of all things.

Sam and Dean had been turning over this strange sight and its implications in their heads when they heard a muffled _thump_ and saw a grinning face sit itself in the seat beside theirs.

"Hello, then. You must be the new boys. Sam and Dean, wasn't it?"

Dean, being the brother sitting closest to the aisle, whipped his head over to glare at the intruding boy. To be honest, he wasn't much to look at. He had medium-brownish hair that was cropped short, and features that he figured he certainly wouldn't remember at the end of the day. In fact, it seemed the only memorable thing about the boy were his strange, pale eyes, which were looking at Dean expectantly.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean said, gruffly. He figured that there was no need for polite introductions, seeing as the boy had sat himself right in the middle of their thinking session.

However, as it seemed, the boy's grin only grew wider.

"Ah, excellent question, my friend. I, am Locke Lamora. This is my associate, Jean Tannen."

He gestured to the seat in front of himself, and Dean noticed a rather heavyset boy with curly black hair and round looking inquisitively back at him. He turned his gaze back to Locke, who seemed to be speaking again.

"And, as the unofficial welcoming committee of the illustrious Karp High, I will be showing you around your new hell."

Dean narrowed his eyes mistrustfully. He'd seen his fair share of "welcoming committees" with Sam, and he most certainly didn't need yet another one, especially from this scrap of a boy.

Seeing his expression, Locke closed his eyes, putting his hands up slowly.

"Believe me, I understand your trepidation, but I must ask you to trust me. I and my bastard companions wish you no harm, so long as you do not harm us. I believe you shall find my help especially useful, as you shall quite obviously need help getting introduced to everybody."

Dean didn't like the boy and his roundabout way of speaking, but he saw nothing but honesty in Locke's words and actions. He turned to Sam, gently shaking his shoulder to rouse the younger boy from the light sleep he had fallen into. Sam awoke with a gasp, eyes flying open and quickly focusing on his brother's face. Dean smiled.

"I scare ya, Sammy?"

Sam's cheeks flushed, and he quickly sat up, his gaze immediately drawn to where Locke was looking over, almost eagerly.

"Who's he?" He asked, glancing at Dean quizzically.

"Him? That's Locke. Apparently he's going to show us around, introduce us and stuff. I think we can trust him."

Sam turned his gaze back to Locke, who was beginning to say something.

"I am indeed called Locke, and sitting directly in front of me is Jean. He, unfortunately, has somewhere to be this morning, so it shall only be us three in the party."

Sam looked at the boy uncertainly. He seemed nice, but his speech was odd and his expression a bit _too_ genuine. But, if Dean said he was trustworthy, he supposed he'd give the guy a chance.

They didn't get another chance at conversation, however, as the bus screeched to a halt in front of an impressively big building. It look at least two stories tall, and couldn't have been built before 2005. Written on the front, in surprisingly modern script were the words 'David Karp High School'. Locke looked over at the brothers, and with a positively shit-eating grin, he said,

"Well, darlings, it seems we're here!"

Dean gave him a half-hearted glare, but said nothing as he followed the short boy to the front of the bus. He gave a brief nod of recognition to the bus driver, a dark-skinned man with peculiar golden eyes. When his worn-out boots hit the pavement, he saw Locke give the black haired boy, Jean, he supposed, a little push in the direction of a pair of what looked like identical twins.

Locke turned back to Sam and Dean, "I am supposed to be introducing you to people, and I might as well start now. The twins? They're called Calo and Galdo Sanza. Don't worry, you'll tell them apart soon enough. Oh-" He pointed to an odd duo walking down the street towards the school. They were a short, curly-haired boy who couldn't have been more than ten, and a boy who looked like a sophomore or a junior, with muscles that suggested he played a sport. "See the short one?" Locke began, "That's Charlie Eppes. The older one is his brother Don. No matter how easy it seems, you do _not _want to fuck with Charlie Eppes. It might not look it, but his brother will beat the living shit out of you if you even try."

Dean nodded, still looking at the brothers. "Why's the kid in high school? Isn't he a little young?"

Locke nodded in understanding. "Kid's a genius, what I hear. A budding mathematician."

Dean nodded again, following his brother and Locke as the latter beckoned them inside. He stopped outside a door marked Homeroom-3W, and made an elegant sort of mock-bow.

"Well, this is where I leave you. I trust you can use maps, and I think you should have most of your classes together. Last names and all that jazz."

He then walked away, disappearing down a hallway. Dean looked back at Sam, but couldn't think of anything to say. He simply gave him what he hoped was a reassuring nod, and they stepped into the homeroom. As homerooms went, they'd seen worse.

As was to be expected, the kids inside the classroom were horsing around, throwing bits of paper. One of these, in fact, landed in Dean's hair. The desks were arranged in twos, pairs right next to each other. A teacher was seated at the desk, a man with mousy brown hair and a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He appeared to be furiously writing down something, and not paying much attention to his class.

Due to the fact that there were no more pairs of desks empty, Sam sat next to a short boy dressed unusually well for a high school. The boy seemed to have a New York Times crossword in one hand, and a pen in the other. Sam watched him scrawl down the word "HEPHAESTUS" before he turned his attention to Dean, who was sitting in front of him. He had sat down next to a boy with black hair and astonishingly blue eyes, and, oddly enough, a beige trench coat.

Dean decided that he was just bored enough to attempt conversation.

"Hey," He began, the boy's bright eyes flicking to him almost immediately. "The name's Dean Winchester. What's yours?"

The kid looked almost puzzled, but he answered in a quiet and surprisingly deep voice.

"My name is Castiel Novak. Thank you for asking, Dean Winchester."

'. .'

Tony Stark sat, as per usual, with both feet crossed and propped on top of a desk in his homeroom. He was currently telling the (in his opinion, epic) tale of his summer. He was just getting to a good part, when. . .

"Okay, guys, so I had this half-dressed blonde on top of me, and a brunette just _begging _for me-"

"No, you didn't."

Tony stopped his story short, pausing to glare at the source of the self-assured, collected British interjection.

"Eat a sock, Cal. I don't need you ruining my fun."

The object of his aggravations, a boy with light brown hair and piercing pale blue eyes, simply smiled.

"You don't need me ruining your lies either, but here I am."

Tony, if possible, turned up his glare a notch before returning to face his audience.

"So-" But he was interrupted once more by the entrance of two boys to the classroom, a blond-haired boy who wouldn't look out of place on a football field, or in a wrestling ring, and a black-haired boy who seemed to be trying his hardest to become suddenly and inexplicably invisible.

The shorter (though not by much- both of them seemed ridiculously tall for juniors) said something brief and quiet to the other in a language Tony didn't recognize, and the blonde gave him a short look of admonishment before replying in the same dialect.

"Hey!" Tony called, his voice barely making it through the cacophony of the classroom. Both boys immediately turned their eyes to him, the black-haired boy's bright green ones burning into Tony's own brown ones. He fought the urge to flinch, and gestured the pair over.

The blond eagerly approached, while the shorter seemed to be much more reluctant. When they reached his desk, they were undoubtedly the center of attention in all surrounding desks, Cal's and the rest of Tony's friends included.

"Hello!" The blond exclaimed, in a boisterous voice. Tony flinched at how loud his voice was, and he noted the others doing the same.

"Hey there, buddy. I couldn't help but notice that I haven't seen either of you. Mind introducing yourselves?"

At this statement, the black-haired boy turned to glare at Tony, and he fought the urge to gulp nervously.

"Why must we?" The boy asked, with an accent Tony just couldn't place. "We don't know you, and as you said we've never even seen each other. Why should we feel obligated to even introduce ourselves?"

Tony balked at his response, his face moving easily into his 'offended and defensive' face that he used with Natasha so often. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the larger of the two strangers putting a hand on his companion's shoulder and stepping forward.

"Loki, now, there is no need for such rudeness." He spoke with the same loud tone as before, and Tony felt his ears beginning to desensitize to his volume. "I apologize, friend, for my brother's words. He often forgets his niceties in new environments."

Tony nodded, and the blonde continued. "I am Thor Odinson, and this is my brother Loki. We are indeed new here, having moved from our home country of Norway."

Tony 'hmm'-d at that, wondering why this kid –Thor, he supposed- felt the need to give such lengthy introductions.

"Alright, Thor, thanks for the TMI. I'm Tony, and sitting around me are Don, Clint, Natasha, and Steve."

Thor looked at the assembled students; a redheaded girl, a serious-looking boy with black hair, a boy with sandy hair, and an absolute twig of a boy with shiny blond hair to rival his own.

They seemed an amiable bunch, and Thor Odinson decided he was going to befriend them, even if Loki did not.

'._.'

Loski sat down a seat removed from the annoying boy called Tony, directly adjacent to the boy Tony had seemed to be glaring at as they entered. He was a short boy, with light blue eyes and dirty blond hair. As Loki had taken his seat, the boy turned and studied him with eyes that would have stared right through him had Loki not been attempting to have the same effect with his own.

"I'm Cal Lightman," The boy had said as he sat. "You're Loki Odinson, I suppose?"

Loki made one more attempt to ward the boy off by staring, before sighing and responding with quick, clipped words.

"Odinson isn't accurate. That oaf knows I share no blood with him, yet he insists on calling me brother."

Cal stared at him for a moment, before responding with absolute certainty.

"You don't believe that yourself."

Loki started at his words, immediately becoming more hostile.

"Whatever do you mean, I don't believe it?"

The boy smirked, and continued. Much to Loki's chagrin, his following words were as confident and proud as the others.

"You don't mean that. You can scream you're not related until your throat tears, but you still think of him as family."

Loki sat up straighter, and his words came out laced with poison.

"Who are you to make such brash statements? Why would you claim to know so much of my thoughts?"

If possible, Cal's smile grew wider.

"I'm Cal Lightman, mate, as I said. Knowing your innermost thoughts? It's a bit of a hobby."


End file.
